


it won't get better than this

by stellaviatores



Series: turn [2]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Confessions, Episode Related, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e05 Choose Your Pain, Shroom high!Hugh, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaviatores/pseuds/stellaviatores
Summary: “If I’m right,” Paul says out of nowhere that night, Hugh’s head resting on his belly, “- and I know I am, because I’m brilliant - then you should be in a lot of pain right now.”After the events of the day, Paul wants to have a serious conversation. Unfortunately, Hugh is still riding his earlier high.





	it won't get better than this

**Author's Note:**

> title from the wombats' [turn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWwfT8yyz0Y)

“If I’m right,” Paul says out of nowhere that night, Hugh’s head resting on his belly, “- and I know I am, because I’m brilliant - then you should be in a lot of pain right now.”

Hugh doesn’t respond for a moment, eyes still trained on his PADD. He’s been - well, _weird_ is an understatement for the way he’s been behaving since pulling that stupid stunt with the tardigrade DNA. A part of Paul will admit that Hugh’s solution was the only viable option, but the irrational, emotional, thoroughly pissed off section of his brain insists that there could have been another course of action. Of the seventeen years they’d been together, this was the first time Paul could say he was genuinely scared for him: angry, yes, but mostly terrified out of his fucking mind. They have no idea what Hugh’s done to himself. They have no idea what Hugh _is_.

Hugh rolls on his side and smiles - a little distant and spaced-out, Paul notes. “I’m not,” he insists blithely. “Stop doctoring.”

“Okay, first of all, that doesn’t make sense,” Paul retorts, “and secondly, you’re lying.”

Hugh’s grin widens. “Am not.”

“What are you, five?” Paul’s hand comes to rest on Hugh’s head, unconsciously rubbing circles into his scalp. Hugh hums and leans into the touch, eyes closing with content. “You can tell me,” he adds, quieter. “I won’t put anything on file. I just want to take care of you.”

“You are,” Hugh replies, nuzzling against Paul’s soft stomach. “My _dear_ doctor.”

Paul’s hand stills. “What?”

“Dear doctor,” Hugh repeats slowly, like _Paul’s_ the one who got stabbed in the ribs six hours ago. He’s opened his eyes - pupils blown, the barest hint of warm brown encircling them. Hundreds of theories spring to mind and Paul pushes them aside.

“You’ve never called me that before.”

“I haven’t?” Hugh asks absently. Before Paul can say anything he’s moved on, gaze settling on the ceiling. “You’re always taking care of me. You think you’re selfish, but you’re one of the most selfless people in the galaxy, you know that?”

“I -” Paul blinks. “What?”

“You are,” Hugh reiterates. His hands have drifted above his head and he stares at his interlocked fingers like they hold the secrets of the universe. “You’re incredible.” He giggles - really _giggles,_ like his trip down the mycelium path has sent him back forty years. “My doctor. _My dear doctor_. I love you.”

Despite himself, Paul’s cheeks begin to redden. “Okay, I’m taking you to medbay,” he says, only half convinced he has the willpower and strength to actually haul Hugh across the ship. “You need observation.”

“ _You_ can observe me,” Hugh responds, managing to make it sound like an innuendo. And in case that wasn’t obvious, he wiggles his eyebrows. Paul sighs, eyeing his PADD on the bedside table.

“Proper observation, from an objective party. Delaney is on shift now.”

“No,” Hugh whines, dropping his hands in frustration. He fixes Paul with a stare he’s never been able to resist - just the right combination of exasperated, commanding and too fucking sweet for words. “I don’t want Delaney, I want _you_.”

“You have me,” Paul mutters, relenting. He leans back and Hugh resettles himself, fingers now drumming across his ribcage. They lie like this for a few minutes, long enough for Paul to think his husband has fallen asleep. Maybe he can chalk this up to exhaustion; Hugh hasn’t slept in at least forty-eight hours, by Paul’s estimate. He’d chastise him for pulling double-shifts and skipping breaks but Paul’s done the exact same since Lorca’s kidnapping. They all have.

Hugh breathes, even inhales and exhales, and Paul roots himself to the present with the rise and fall of his chest. In a whole universe of instability, Hugh is his constant, harebrained gambits with alien DNA or not.

“You’re scared.”

Paul swallows his bravado. “Yes.” He pauses. “Aren’t you?”

“Not really,” Hugh says, lowering his pitch in - awe? “The network is beautiful. I’ve spent my entire career trying to understand mycelium, and yet,” he shakes his head, “it’s an entire field of possibilities I can’t even begin describe. I would have never known that without doing what I did.”

“You could have died,” Paul reminds him softly.

“Honey, I’m fine,” he grasps Paul’s free hand and squeezes gently. “I swear.”

“You’ll tell me if anything’s wrong?”

Hugh averts his eyes. “Of course.” Before Paul can interject he adds: “I didn’t just do it for glory, or science, or whatever you’re thinking.”

Paul snorts. “Let me guess - it was for the captain?”

“What? God, no,” Hugh laughs, “it was all for you.”

A lump appears in Paul’s throat like a traitor. “Shut up,” he chokes, “that’s - _incredibly_ corny, even by your standards.”

“You love it,” Hugh replies immediately, tilting his head back for a kiss. Paul rolls his eyes and pecks him on the cheek, just quick enough for him to sneak a glance at Hugh’s pupils. Still blown, whether from the transfer or his own excitement, Paul doesn’t know. Either way, the cold ball of worry in his stomach weighs heavier.

“Don’t do anything that stupid ever again,” he whispers against Hugh’s lips. They twist from a smile to the serious line Paul has seen time and time again when Hugh’s bent over a microscope or examining his spores.

But instead of arguing, Hugh reaches up and kisses him flush on the mouth. It’s barely even a proper kiss: a reassurance, maybe. Paul’s lips are chapped and they both taste like synthesised toothpaste but it doesn’t matter, not this time, not ever. He almost lost Hugh today and the fear is enough to keep him still, cupping a hand under Hugh’s crown just to hold him one more time. He knows that from here on out his hands will linger a little longer when Hugh touches him, that he’ll drink in the sight of him like a dying man because Hugh is so, so fragile, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He’s human - or at least he once was.

Forehead pressed against Hugh's, Paul thinks that maybe, if he can be a bit more brilliant, they might come out of this okay.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://mutantmeme.tumblr.com)


End file.
